Out of Character
by Genevia
Summary: He wanted someone-anyone to notice that he was collapsing in on himself.


_d i s c l a i m e r : i d o n o t o w n g l e e ._

. . . . . .

I whimper from the pain. Azimio is holding my arm tightly, and it would be bearable had I not made a few [_many_] cuts last night.

He sneers. "What's the matter homo? Can't handle a little pain?"

_You have no idea what pain is._ "You mean the kind of pain I feel when I see your ugly face every day?" I quip, trying to keep up a strong front. He tightens his grip on my arm at my words and I bite back another whimper. He lets go, opting to push me to the lockers instead.

"That's my line, fag." he says. He and Karofsky both leave, leaving me to sigh in relief.

I feel the cuts on my arm once again, their pain stinging anew. I grit my teeth. I should be thanking those jocks for reminding me why I started cutting in the first place.

A grimace forms on my lips and I head straight to my next class.

_. . . o u t . o f . c h a r a c t e r . . ._

It isn't long before the whole length of my arms are filled with a myriad of scars, some of them still new and healing. It becomes harder and harder to hide them, that's why I start wearing long-sleeves to school. I do not completely forget about them as every time the fabric rubs against my skin, I feel the pain flaring. The cuts burn, more so when Mercedes holds on to my arm very often. I do not tell her to stop because that will cause suspicion. We have always been touchy best friends and telling her not to touch me would lead to a series of why_'s. _It is the same when Finn or Puck playfully nudge my arm, or when Brittany decides that she misses her dolphin and hugs me with my arms rigid against my body.

No one notices how my lips thin to a line whenever they do something that makes my cuts sting. That is why I never thought that someone will eventually find out, or that someone is one of the those who I expect to care the least.

I am walking down the empty hallway when she barks my name. I turn around and see her a few paces away. She is in her '_I-am-the-Swan-Queen_' pose, her eyes telling me to walk to her pronto. I sigh.

"Porcelain, come talk to me in my office." she says, grabbing my arm. Her grip is tight and I'm pretty sure that's how she normally is but it wasn't expected, causing me to yelp in pain. I quickly clamp my mouth shut at my outburst. Surprisingly, Coach doesn't react, until we reach her office. She tells me to sit down and I follow.

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about, Coach?" I ask, absently patting my arms softly. Coach doesn't answer immediately and just gazes at me with unfathomable eyes. "Coach?"

Her expression hardens and I am forced to gulp with nervousness. "Roll up your sleeves, Porcelain." she orders, her voice quiet but demanding. I hesitate. She will see what kind of monster I am and probably send me off to some hospital to see some shrink, and I do _not_ want that. "I said roll them up. Or would you rather I torture you by pulling out your molars?" I still do not move.

Coach Sylvester frowns deeply. Her voice lowers into a whisper. "If I show you mine, would you show me yours?"

What did she mean by that?

She does not wait for me to answer but proceeds to roll up the long sleeves of her tracksuit. It isn't long before I see multitudes of scars decorating her pale arms like some sort of intricate tribal tattoo. She grimaces and looks at me. "Your turn."

I do not know what came over me, but I did what she said. As soon as my arms were exposed, her grimace deepens. My scars were newer than hers and some of them were deep enough not to be healed in just a short while.

"Huh." she whispers, "I knew it."

I fidget. We both have the same problem, but will she out me to my parents?

"I won't tell your parents." she adds. I let out a breath I don't realize I am holding. She must be a mind reader or something.

She leans against her table, sighing. "Hide them." she says, gesturing to my arms. I roll my sleeves down and she does the same. A minute passes by before she speaks again. "I know those sick homophobes have been giving you a hard time, Porcelain. I know how you feel like you want to go AWOL and into Lala-land. Been there, done that."

"I know how it feels like no one cares." she continues, "Like you're the saddest person in the world. I know how making those cuts feel so good, just to make you let out the emotional pain you're holding in. I know."

I remain silent. Tears are forming in my eyes as she speaks the truth. My body trembles with the effort I put not to let my tears win.

She looks at me with sadness but laced with understanding and comfort. It was a rare sight to see. "But you and I both know that this isn't good for you, for anybody. And that's why you need to stop. Look at me. I used to be in the same position you are in right now but I'm still here, aren't I? And stronger than those goddamn buffoons who pushed me down."

Her words cause my poorly structured dam to break. Salty tears run down my face as I heave in shaky breaths. "I just can't take it anymore! Everyday feels like torture! Why do they hate me so much?" I wail, my body shaking. I close my eyes and bury my face between my knees. It is just too much. To think that it is Coach Sylvester who noticed first, not my friends or my family. I guess they can not understand what they don't feel.

I am in pitch-black darkness, the sounds of my tears being the only sound. However, a pair of warm arms envelop me. They overflow with comfort and solace, with understanding and comprehension.

"I know, Porcelain. Sometimes people don't accept others when they're slightly different than them. That's their problem, not yours." Coach murmurs.

We sit like that for a long time, until my tears finally ebb away.

. . . . . .

**a / n**

Yes, I know this is lame and you do not need to tell me that. Number1KurtHummelFan 's review in my previous story, "**When Sadness Becomes Too Deep for Words**", actually inspired me to write a Kurt/Sue hurt/comfort fic. I just suck sometimes, I guess. ^^'

I wanted to show that Sue _does_ have a soft side. That's why I didn't show her snarky attitude much [or at all]. And yes, I just don't know how to go all Sylvester-like. XP

**Review please, whether they be flames, waters or airs [-or earths?]!**


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